What You Are
by AngelOfLorien
Summary: (Part 3 of ?) Daryl x Jules. Skips around from eps. Nebraska to Judge, Jury, and Executioner.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: **__Oh lawd, guys, an actual story with Jules! With a semi-real plot and eerthang! I'm excited. lol I've mentioned the time issues (as in, I have no idea how long it's been) so here's my own adaptation of how things happen. The barn massacre/death of Sophia happens in What You Need, then this one picks up immediately after What You Need, the following morning. I know technically Hershel left the evening of the funeral, but I delayed it a bit. Also, the dialogue isn't exact. Sorry to the purists._

_Rights to the owners, etc. etc._

* * *

_**Would I change my ways?  
Wasted times and broken dreams  
Violent colors so obscene  
It's all I see these days  
These days**_

* * *

Jules got dressed and joined Daryl outside the tent. She smiled in greeting to Maggie, who looked anxious.

"Dad's gone. Beth collapsed and we can't find him and she's in some kinda shock or something, so-"

Jules took hold of her cousin's arms. "Slow down, sweetie. Now, what d'you mean Hershel's 'gone'?"

"Mom's stuff was out," Maggie said, her voice quaking. She was trying her best to keep it together.

"Oh, no." Jules looked at Daryl, who nodded and jerked his chin toward the farmhouse in the distance.

"Go on back up to the house. I'ma go get a bath, so I'll see if he went to the creek or something."

"There's a shower at the house, you know."

"I like the lagoon. More privacy. Now git." He gave a sheepish smile when she cupped his cheek and gave him a quick kiss. He cleared his throat and ducked his head. "G'on now."

She and Maggie went back to the house, asking anybody they came across if they had seen Hershel. No one had. Maggie told Rick, and he and Shane had gone to Hershel's room to look around. Shane found her uncle's flask and Jules looked at Maggie.

"D'you think he went into town?"

"Would he do something that irresponsible?" Lori asked. "Go into town by himself?"

"He might've," Rick said, turning the flask over in his hands. "There a bar in town?" Maggie answered him as Jules left the room.

"Where you going?"

She looked at Patricia. "I figure Rick's going to go after Hersh. He'll need someone to have his back."

"Julia Elaine, you don't have any business going out there. Let Rick handle it."

Jules goggled at her. "Are you kidding? You want me to just leave him there?"

"I want you to let the men handle it. Beth needs-"

"Beth has Maggie here and she needs here father. I'm going, Patty. Jesus, at the risk of sounding like Andrea, this 'little woman can't do nothin' attitude has gotta go," she said, shaking her head and walking off. She checked in on Beth while Lori and Shane argued with Rick over going. Big surprise that was going down. After seeing that there was no change in Beth's condition, she kissed her baby cousin's cheek and promised her that she would come back with her dad.

"You ready?" she asked Rick, gently shutting Beth's bedroom door.

"You're not going," Rick said. "I'm taking Glenn. He knows his way. It's too dangerous for me to have to look after you too. We don't know how many walkers are in town by now."

"All the more reason you need me with you. I can run, shoot, and fight, same as you. Believe it or not, having a vagina does not slow one's cognitive skills. "

"Dude," Glenn mumbled, shifting and blushing.

Rick scoffed a half-laugh and cussed under his breath. "All right. But you better stay sharp. If anything happened to you, Daryl'd tear me apart."


	2. Chapter 2

Jules enjoyed the ride into town because it reminded her of being a kid. She'd spent most of her childhood in the back of her daddy's truck, travelling up and down these little country roads. She smiled to herself as she remembered her mom freaking out anytime she or her brothers got too close to the tailgate. She stretched out in the bed of the truck and stacked her hands behind her head to lessen the vibrations and bumps. She'd always hated the way it made her ears tickle to lay her head down in the truck.

The sky was bright and beautifully blue. If she tried really hard, she might be able to pretend that she was a kid again, with her folks in the cab and Tom and Wayne leaning against the wheel wells. She wondered if either of the boys were still alive, then shied away from that train of thought. Even if they were, Tom was in Springfield and Wayne had moved to Boston after college, so chances of her ever seeing them again was slim to none anyway.

Rick hit a bump and she came bodily off the truckbed, her head slamming back down with a resounding bang. The bump upended the pack she'd brought in case she happened across something useful, the pistol inside clattering across the truck bed and bumping into her crowbar. She cursed loudly, her voice getting taken by the wind, and glared toward the back window as she collected her things. Deciding against reminiscing anymore, she leaned her back against the cab and watched the trees roll by.

Rick eased off the gas as they approached the city limits and Jules readied her weapons. The former sheriff hadn't wanted her to take the back for just this reason, but when they got ready to load up, Glenn looked like something was bothering him so she'd offered him shotgun on a hunch. She braced her feet apart and stood, perching on the rim of the truck cab as she surveyed the area for walkers. Everything looked clear, thankfully. Rick turned onto the street with bar and a few other buildings—a mercantile, a gas station, a diner. They might be able to find some supplies or something they could use back at the farm. Maybe there was still gas in the pumps. She'd have to try to find something to carry it in...

She saw her uncle's vehicle parked in front of the bar and sighed. This wasn't going to be easy. She remembered back when Hershel had been a drinker, even though she'd only been six or seven when he'd stopped. He'd given it up when Maggie was born. Still, she'd heard stories. The old man had a tendency to be belligerent and stubborn when he was sober, so she could only imagine the fun they were going to have getting him back home if he was three sheets to the wind.

She passed the crowbar to Glenn and hopped out of the truck, landing on her feet with a grunt. She removed her pistol and tucked it in the band of her shorts. "Entrance is this way," she said, slinging her bag across her chest and leading them around to the front of the building.

The bar was dark, its windows nearly all blotted out by ads and banners. Hershel sat at the bar with his back to the door. Rick walked slowly toward him.

"Hershel?"

"Who's with you?"

"Jules and Glenn."

Jules saw his shoulders heave in a sigh. "That's quite a team you got. Maggie send him?"

"No, he volunteered. He's good like that." Rick moved forward and Jules followed him. Glenn hung back, watching the door. He didn't really have any dog in the upcoming fight.

"Aw, Hersh. What're you doing?" Jules asked quietly when she saw the near-empty bottle of Scotch sitting in front of him.

"Shouldn'ta come after me."

"Why don't you finish this at the house," Rick asked, picking up the bottle. "Beth collapsed in some kinda state. I think she's in shock." He looked at the older man intently. "I think you are too."

"Maggie with her?" Hershel asked.

"Yeah. She and Patty are keeping an eye on her, but she's not doing so good. She needs you."

"She needs her mother. She needs to mourn like she shoulda done weeks ago. I robbed her of that," he said, taking a drink. He looked over his shoulder at Jules. "You too."

"You didn't," she insisted. "You didn't know, Hersh. You had hope and it gave us something to cling to."

He scoffed. "I was blind, Julia Elaine. But now I see," he intoned, mocking the words of his favorite hymn. "You tried to tell me-"

"Don't do that," she interrupted. "I guarantee you that if the roles were reversed, I wouldn't have believed you either. I wouldn'ta wanted to."

"I put you all in danger with my stupidity."

"Uncle Hershel..."

He ignored her and shook off her hand when she laid it on his shoulder, gulping down the rest of his Scotch and pouring another glass. She met Rick's eyes and he nodded, silently assuring her that he'd take care of him. Jules went to the table in the corner, near the door, and sat. She watched Hershel and Rick talk quietly. Glenn sat down across from her and scratched at the table's surface with his thumbnail.

"How is he?"

"Not too good. He's blaming himself for everything." She looked at Glenn. "How are you?" She arched a brow at him when he sat up and stared like a deer caught in headlights. "You seem tense. Like, unrelated to current situation."

Glenn looked uncomfortable for a minute, then sighed and slouched toward her. "Why do girls insist on changing things?" he whispered. "Like, what is it about the makeup of your brains that says, 'Things are going good. Let's change everything up.'?"

"I'm guessing that this isn't hypothetical."

"Maggie said she loved me. Just...just outta nowhere. I mean, it came out of left field."

"Oh dear. Did you say it back?"

He shook his head. "I mean, we barely know each other!"

"Lemme let you in on a secret," Jules said, scooting her chair around and resting her elbows on her knees. "Girls are way more in touch with their feelings than guys. That's not a secret. But—and write this down—it doesn't necessarily mean that we are any smarter about them."

"What do you mean? She didn't mean it?"

"No, if she said it, she meant it. No, what I'm saying is that she might not have meant to say it right at that particular moment. But, honey, you gotta stop and realize what all's happened over the past few days. She wasn't really at her best, know what I mean? Her defenses were down and she said it in a heightened emotional state. It doesn't make it any less true, it just doesn't necessarily mean that she was ready for it either." She patted his knee and stood, turning to look at Rick and Hershel.

"I was a fool. My daughters deserved better than that," her uncle was saying. He looked back and met her eyes. "You too, honey."

"What do we do? Wait for him to pass out?" Glenn asked as Hershel told Rick to leave.

"I don't know. Knock him out?" she asked.

"Leave!" Hershel yelled. "Just leave!"

Rick returned to try to soothe the old man and Jules picked up her crowbar from where she'd laid it on the bar. "I'm going to search the gas station, see if I can find anything worth taking back to the house."

"I don't think you should go by yourself," Glenn protested.

"I'll be fine, sweetheart. I got my bar and my piece. I won't be gone long." She cupped his chin and smiled sweetly. "You good?" Glenn nodded and she patted his cheek. "Alright then. I'll see you in a bit."

She had to squint and wait for her eyes to adjust after being in the dimness of the bar. She scanned the area for walkers and, seeing none, darted across the street to the Valero station. She was surprised to see how much stuff was still in the station. She figured it would have been cleaned out more. The shelves were virtually clean of foodstuffs except for some candy here and there, but there was a surprising amount of hardware left near the back.

She stuck a couple of bottles of motor oil into her duffle. Dale might need it for the RV. God knows it can use all the help anybody could offer. She sifted through a few piles of debris, tucking a few smaller items into her bag—a couple of travel boxes of tampons (any amount of those were a godsend), batteries, energy shots, condoms for the few people lucky enough to need them, and a first aid kit. She found a bottle of Alieve that had rolled under a shelf and nearly did a happy dance. When she approached the back of the store and saw the tools that were left, she gave a low whistle. It was a melee fighter's wet dream. Axes, shovels, and even shiny new crowbars scattered the floor and hung haphazardly from broken racks. She would have to get Glenn and come back before they left town. She circled the back and headed toward the front, steering clear of the metal freezer door. Best-case scenario was that there was an awful lot of milk and other rotten cooler stuff; worst-case scenario was that there was dead inside.

As she neared the front counter, her eyes landed on something and she practically heard an angel chorus. Lying between the counter and the wall were three boxes of cigarettes. Jules suddenly found herself a thirteen year old fangirling over a crush, because she hurried toward the manna from Heaven with a high-pitched giggle of excitement.

"Oh, sweet baby Jesus," she cooed. She hadn't had a cigarette since...well, a couple of weeks before all this started. She'd given up smoking because it was unhealthy and people in her family had a habit of dying young from health problems. Now that long life more-than-likely wasn't an option, she was ready to fire up and smoke the shit outta those Light 100s.

She scurried behind the counter, stuffing loose packs into her bag alongside the cartons. Some of them might be menthol, and some of them might be the strong stinky kind that made her feel sick if she smoked too much, but by damn, she'd take it.

She ripped into a pack of Marlboro and pulled one out, snatching a lighter off the counter and taking a long drag. She exhaled on a sigh, so pleased to have the familiar burn and weight in her chest. She slid down the wall and stretched her legs out in front of her, enjoying the quiet moment alone with her precious tube of nicotine.

She was pulled from her quiet reprieve by the sound of voices in the distance, but it took her a second to realize that they belonged none of the men she'd come into town with. She thumped the ember out of her cigarette and slid up onto her knees to peek out the grimy window. She saw two men enter the bar where Glenn and the others were still lingering. She tightened her grip on her crowbar and waited for any signs of foul play. When nothing happened, she gathered a few more items in her bag and left the station, making a quick sweep through the abandoned diner next door.

Jules was curious as to if there were any other people left in town but decided to forego any search and head back to the bar. Better safe than sorry, and there was little doubt that not everyone adjusted to the end of the world as well as Rick Grimes. She entered the bar and froze immediately. The tension in the place was palpable. She had not stumbled into a good situation.

"Is it safe?"

"Yeah."

Glenn answered the dark-haired man's question, whatever it had been regarding, before turning his attention to her. When Glenn noticed her, Rick and the others turned to look as well. Jules tensed under the scrutiny. She didn't like the look of the heavier stranger, nor did she appreciate the way his eyes dragged over her. The shorter man looked at her intently, his shrewd eyes calculating and his mouth curling into a smirk.

"This one'a your guys?" Jules couldn't place the man's accent, but it wasn't from around Georgia. The man lifted a hand. "Name's Dave. That's Tony."

He waited for her to offer her name, but after one look at Rick, she kept it to herself. His blue eyes were intense, his jaw tight. "You guys passing through town?" she asked, hopping up onto the bar and swinging her legs over so that she could stand next to her uncle.

"Actually, that's what Rick and I were just discussing," Dave said, offering her a smile.

He looked back at Rick and Jules focused her attention on Tony. He seemed shadier even than his friend. Her lip curled when the man walked to the corner and began relieving himself on the floor.

"You on a farm?"

That got her attention. There was no way these two were going to the farm, but she couldn't think of a way to get out of here without something really bad going down first. "What are we going to do?" Jules breathed the question to her uncle, who kept his eyes steady on the man addressing Rick. He shook his head ever so slightly to let her know that he didn't have an answer for her.

"You got women?" Tony zipped up and turned around to look at Jules, his eyes lingering on the swell of her breasts as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. "I ain't had a piece in weeks."

Her hands tightened on her crowbar at his words. She held his gaze and lifted her chin, trying her best to keep her disgusted sneer from showing too strongly. Better to remain as neutral as possible.

"I apologize for Tony," Dave said, throwing a glance at his friend before looking at Jules. "City kids, they got no tact. No disrespect." Dave cleared his throat. "Listen-"

"We've said enough," Rick interrupted.

"Well, it's just that this farm...it sounds pretty sweet." He smiled again, this one looking somewhat forced. "Where's that famous southern hospitality?"

"That's not an option. I'm sorry. We can't take on any more."

Just like that, the man's demeanor took on a predatory edge. Tony paced angrily in the background as Dave held out his hands in supplication. "I thought we were friends."

"You thought wrong," Jules said, cutting off anything Rick might have said. Hershel took hold of her wrist below the bar, silently telling her to hold her tongue. She looked up at him, his white eyebrows pulled low.

"Go on and stand by Glenn," he said quietly. Jules did as he instructed, moving closer to Glenn—and away from the strangers. Dave spewed scarcely veiled threats and everyone grew more tense. Beside her, Glenn flinched when Tony kicked a table.

"This is bullshit!" he shouted.

Rick, ever the peace-keeper, tried to soothe his temper. "Calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down," the big man said, bowing up on Rick. "Don't ever tell me to calm down. I'll shoot every one of you assholes in the head!"

"Whoa, whoa. Nobody's shooting anybody," Dave said, standing. He went to the bar and hopped over, looking for a bottle. Rick's hand went to his gun when Dave made a move too quickly. "Easy sheriff," he said, taking out a bottle of whiskey. He slowly withdrew his gun and laid it on the counter. "We're just friends having a drink."

Jules kept an eye on Tony, who was glaring at Rick. His hand was inching closer to his waistband, and Jules mirrored him, slowly bringing her own had toward the gun tucked in her jeans. Something Rick said didn't make Dave too happy, and he scoffed out a laugh seconds before he made a move for his gun.


	3. Chapter 3

Daryl stuck the blade of his knife into the log he was sitting on and looked down toward the house. He didn't like that he hadn't seen Jules since first thing in the morning. He had popped up to the house a bit earlier but he hadn't seen her. He figured she must've been in with the girl or something. He was aggirvated, edgy, and he didn't know exactly why. Lori had come up to his camp earlier and told him that Rick and Glenn had run off after Hershel, but she'd caught him at a bad time—not that he had a lot of good times where she was concerned—and he'd pretty much just sent her packing with a few choice words.

He chewed the inside of his cheek and sighed, snatching the blade out of the log and tucking it into his holster. He made the trek to the house and knocked on the door. He wasn't as comfortable just barging into the place like everyone else was. It wasn't his house.

"Sweetheart, you don't have to knock," Patricia said as she opened the door for him. Daryl ducked his head at the older woman's endearment. He knew she only called him that 'cause of his familiarity with Jules, but it still made him uncomfortable. "I'm lookin' for Jules. She in with Beth?"

Patricia looked at him, her eyes wide. "You mean she didn't tell you?"

"Didn't tell me what?"

"Oh. Um, Daryl, Jules went into town with Rick and-"

"She _what_?"

"Beth needs Hershel," the woman said. "Julia insisted that she go with the others to bring him back."

"And you people just let her? What the f-" He broke off, clenching his jaw and running a hand through his hair as he struggled to reign in his temper.

"Everything okay in here?"

Daryl turned to look at Shane, his blue eyes narrowing. "The hell's wrong with you, letting Jules go off into town?"

Shane stared impassively. "She ain't mine. Seems to me like if she'da wanted your permission, she'da let you know before she left. I tried to get them all to stay, but she and Rick insisted. If you wanna be pissed off at somebody, fire it at them."

Daryl swore under his breath and swept from the house, letting the door clatter unheeded behind him.

* * *

Dave and Tony were part of a group—a group that was, at present, drawing the attention of every walker within fifty miles by firing their guns at Jules, Glenn, and Hershel. An SUV drove up and waited for the stranger taking shots from the roof across the street to climb down. The man fell and tumbled from the roof, and his screams filled the air.

"He didn't make it."

The driver of the SUV shouted apologies and sped away with a squeal of tires. One of the strangers crept around the side of the bar, trying to get the drop on them since their attention was focused on Glenn, who was behind the dumpster. Jules caught sight of him just as a walker grabbed his throat and took a huge, bloody bite out of his shoulder. The man screamed in agony and was taken to his knees by two more walkers. Jules swore under her breath and stepped out of the doorway. She lined up her shots, plugging first the two walkers, and then the crying man on the ground. His eyes met hers a second before she squeezed the trigger and she lost her breath. He was her first live kill.

"Come on, Julia!" Hershel called. "Get to the truck!"

They ran full-out for the truck. Jules watched in confusion as Hershel bypassed the truck and joined Glenn by the fence. As she got nearer she realized that the screams of pain weren't coming from the man from the roof being eaten, but from him having impaled himself on the iron fence. Hershel and Rick were deliberating on how to get him off the fence.

"Guys, we've got about thirty seconds to make a decision!" Jules said worriedly, checking the streets for walkers.

Rick looked at her and nodded. "Get the car going."

"I'm not leaving y—"

"Do it, Jules!"

She took Hershel's keys and ran to the truck, cranking it and wheeling around so that the others could hop in. A cluster of walkers approached them from the other side of the fence.

"Get back in the car!" Rick shouted when she got out to help fight them.

Jules gasped and winced in sympathy when Rick and Hershel yanked the injured stranger's leg off the pike that topped the fence. Hershel and Glenn maneuvered the man into the car as quickly as they could while Rick took out a few more walkers. Jules threw the truck into gear as he climbed in the front seat.

She could see the stranger's face in the rearview mirror and was surprised at how young he was. Still, the weight of the evening's events had her nerves shredded. "Shut up, boy!"

"My leg! Oh, God, my leg!"

Glenn tried to calm the kid, but he just kept screaming and repeating himself. Jules took as much as she could before she jerked the wheel and slammed on the brakes. The vehicle skidded to a stop on the side of the highway. She unfastened her seatbelt and swung out of the car before anybody had a chance to ask her what she was doing. She snatched the pistol she had been using off the dashboard and shut the door.

"Shit," Rick muttered, opening his door. He called her name as he rounded the truck, but Jules had already started moving again. She jerked Randall's door open and grabbed the young man by the collar, pulling him off-balance so that he lay half out of the seat with his head pointing at the ground. She pressed the barrel of her pistol against the boy's forehead with a _thunk_.

Rick held out his hands and spoke in a low, soothing voice. "Jules, I need you to-"

"Don't go sherriff on me, Rick," she said, tightening her grip on Randall's collar. Glenn stared, wide-eyed, from beside the teen and Hershel sat in the back seat, too weary from the day to give much of a care about anything. She turned her attention to Randall and used the barrel of her pistol to turn his face toward her. "I want you to listen to me, boy. Your people put us in a tight spot. Those two assholes in the bar died because they drew on us. Your buddy back there died because you and your pals tried to kill us. That's on you."

"I'm not one of them! I'm not! I don't even like them! You gotta-"

Jules fired off one round, making Rick swear and Glenn flinch back.

"Jules, walkers would've heard that!" Glenn hissed.

"Then I guess I'd better hurry this up," she said, looking Randall in the eyes. "Your boys took off an' left you to die. My friends saved you because that's the kinda people they are. " She pressed the pistol into his forehead again and leaned her face close to his. He whimpered like a dog as she continued. "I done killed one man tonight and if you think for a second that just because Rick saved your ass back in town that I won't put a bullet through your head and dump you in this ditch, you are _sorely _mistaken. Whatever happens here on out, that's on us. Now I want you to pull yourself together and quit cryin' and snottin' all over my car. You're a big bad man who likes to shoot at people, remember? If you couldn't live with failure, you shouldn'ta been on a raiding party. Am I right?" The man nodded as best he could. "Okay then. You best just calm the fuck down, you understand me?"

"Y-yes," Randall snivelled. His eyes were wild, darting from Rick to Jules and back again.

"Good." She hooked a hand beneath his shoulder and shoved him back into a sitting position. She tossed a bandana at Glenn. "Blindfold him, will you?" She slammed the door, leaving Glenn to get the wounded man situated.

"I need your gun, Jules," Rick said as soon as Randall's eyes were covered. She sighed and passed it over. "I wouldn't have pegged you for a killer. Would you really have done it?"

She snorted. "Be kinda hard," she said, reaching into her back pocket. She pulled out the clip and tapped it against her palm. "Sorry 'bout the shot. I figured it might be better if I cleared the chamber and removed all temptation." She passed him the clip and he snapped it back into place.

Rick stared at her in disbelief. He scoffed a laugh and shook his head. "Get in. Let's get home."


	4. Chapter 4

"Aw, crap," Jules muttered as she saw the small crowd outside the farmhouse as the truck pulled up. Daryl was fully locked and loaded—and so angry he was practically vibrating. She could see it in the set of his shoulders and the murderous look that crossed his face as soon as they lurched to a stop. She unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for the door handle, flinching back as he jerked the door open. He took her by the arms and hauled her out, all but dragging her. She banged her knees on the steering wheel and grunted at the sharp pain.

"Daryl! Daryl, stop!" She struggled against his grasp.

He tightened his fingers on the tops of her arms, too far gone to care whether or not he left little bruises. He gave her a shake and brought his face close to hers. "What in the hell were you thinking, taking off like that? Jesus Christ, Julia, you coulda died. And you didn't even tell me you were leavin'!"

"Maybe because I knew you'd handle it so well!" She finally broke his grip and crossed her arms. "You gotta stop getting so damn grabby whenever you're pissed at me."

"I hate to interrupt," Shane said snidely, "but who the hell is that?"

"That's Randall," Glenn said, leaning against the door.

"Who the hell's Randall?"

"We need to talk about that," Rick sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Y'all need some food and rest first," Patricia said. "It's been a long night. For all of us."

Rick nodded. "Let's get Randall out to the shed so's Hershel can fix that leg, then we'll come inside."

Jules started past Daryl to go into the house, but he reached for her arm. He stopped himself from grabbing her wrist—he didn't want folks to start getting jumpy, like he was some sorta abusive asshole—but he'd be damned if he let her off that easy, not after scaring the hell outta him and putting herself in danger like that. "We need to have us a talk."

She looked tired and irritated and...something he couldn't place, but she gave a short nod and led him toward the barn. "Is this the part where you yell at me like I'm a idiot?"

Well, he was _going_ to. Just to spite her, though, he crossed his arms and stared at he stoically. "Hell no. I don't give a damn what you do. But for the safety of the camp, we need to keep tabs on everybody, so next time you get it in that head of yours to go off on some stupid hero trip, let somebody know."

"You mean let _you_ know. Other people did know. You're just pissed because I didn't ask permission first."

He felt spikes of temper whittle away at his deliberately calm exterior. "Like I said, I don't give a damn."

"You're a liar, Daryl Dixon. If you want one of those beck-and-call girls who ask permission for every little thing they do, you're barking up the wrong tree. You'd be better off with Carol. She's got training in that area." Jules was worn out, body and mind, and she couldn't keep the words in. She wanted to lash out for his behavior—for hauling her out of the truck and shaking her and yelling at her instead of taking her gently and kissing her and making sure she was okay. "My cousin needed her father and Rick needed backup. I ain't apologizing for going. If you don't like how I am, you shoulda got to know me a little better before you picked me, I guess."

"Before_I_ picked _you_? Woman, do you even _remember_ first time we hooked up? You rubbed it up on me like a cat in heat. Hell, what other choice did I have? Front seat at the end of the world ain't exactly the best place for the dating scene. Shit, you figure in our group I got the choice of emotionally unstable feminist—no thank you," he said, ticking off his cynical descriptions on his fingers. "The community bicycle that everybody else rode first, or a damaged mother hen. Then lo and behold we run aground here, and there's an old lady, a kid, Maggie, and you. I'da made a play for Maggie, but Glenn beat me to it," he lied. "The only option I had left was the dumb cooze with the death wish!"

Jules blinked at him. The fight leaked out of her as she watched him pace in front of her. When she spoke, her voice was quiet. "You're a real piece of work, man. And when you pull your head outta your butt, you're gonna feel awful that you said that." She started to walk back toward the house, but stopped and looked back at him. "You know what you are, Daryl? You're a cornered stray cat, scratching and biting at the person who just wants to take you inside, even though you _want_ to be taken inside. But you just keep right on bowing up and hissing. Well ya know what? I'm not goin' to be the one to try to fix you this time. This time it's gonna be up to you to fix things."

"Yeah? Well don't hold your breath."

Jules left him. He watched her go back to the house, cursing his stupid Dixon pride as well as whatever part of him that made him run off at the mouth with such brainless bullshit. He'd never looked at Maggie, not like that, and he had no idea why he'd said he had. To piss Jules off, he supposed. Still, one of these days he was gonna have to get his mouth under control. He couldn't believe what he'd called her. Jesus, he'd sounded just like Merle, and if that didn't scare the absolute crap outta him...

Daryl kicked the barn door, still frustrated with Jules, but now with himself as well.

"Hey."

He turned around and glared at Glenn. "Whatchoo want?"

"Rick sent me out to see if you wanted in on this debriefing or whatever. Rundown of what happened in town and who Randall is."

"Can't you just tell me here?"

Glenn shrugged. "Rick'd get it said better." He looked around. "Where's Jules?"

"Went back inside a few minutes ago."

The boy nodded. "She deserves a little down time. You shoulda seen her though. She was hardcore. You should maybe be with her now though, huh?"

"What for? She's a grown woman. She didn't even tell me she was going anywhere."

"Yeah, but...I mean, I know you guys are together or whatever. I just figured-"

"I ain't gonna coddle her. She wouldn't need a nap if she hadn't taken off-"

"Dude, I know you're Mr. Badass and stuff, but you need to cool it." Glenn stared at Daryl, both of them surprised by his stand. "I'm sure she's still kinda shaken after the shootout and having to put a bullet in that guy-"

"What shootout? What are you talking about?"

"Daryl, she killed somebody. I mean, he was down and covered with walkers, and he'd been trying to kill us, but it was still a human. He was still alive." When Daryl just stood there silently, Glenn sighed. "Look, just come up to the house and let Rick fill you in."

Daryl fell into step beside Glenn and chewed at his lip. Jules had killed someone? They'd been in a _shootout_? He'd been so caught up in being mad at her for taking off, so stuck on what_could have been _happening to her, that he hadn't thought about the danger she had actually been in. He went inside and looked for her, but Patricia said she was out helping Hershel take care of their new prisoner.

"She alright?" he asked her quietly while everyone else filed around the table in the next room and waited for Rick to start the debriefing.

"She's strong—she's had to be, with all the stuff we've been through lately." Patricia frowned at him. "I've known that girl since she was little bitty, and I know how hardheaded she can be, so I'm gonna offer you some unsolicited advice. Figure out whatever it is you want with this thing between you and Julia before one of you goes and screws it up for good."

She went back to whatever she had been doing, obviously done with the discussion.

* * *

The next morning dawned as expected. Jules woke early, eager to get away from the house for a bit. The tension that lay over the entire farm was stifling and she needed a break. She scribbled a note for Maggie just as the sun broke the horizon, filling the sky with a deep pink glow.

"Red sky at morning, sailors take warning." Jules sighed and shrugged a thin flannel shirt on over her tank top. If a storm was going to blow in, she wanted to at least be a little prepared. She slipped out of the house, snatching up her trusty crowbar as she skipped down the steps. She headed for the east woods, going to the one place on the property that would be hers no matter what hell might erupt on earth. A couple hundred yards beyond the treeline, she broke into a grin. There, perched among a small cluster of sycamore trees, sat a dilapidated platform made from 2x4s and covered with a rusted piece of tin wedged between two trees. It was a parents' nightmare—a homemade treehouse that screamed of potential trips to the ER. Still, shabby as it was, shabby as it had always been, her dad had made sure that the old treehouse was safe. It hadn't been repaired in a few years, but she figured it wouldn't hurt to give the boards a test now. It took her a bit to figure out how to climb with her weapon, but once she was up and confident that the boards would hold, she leaned back and listened to the sounds of the forest.

She'd forgotten how nice it was to listen to the different bird calls and the skittering of squirrels. She could pretend, if just for a moment, that the world hadn't gone to ruin. She didn't know how long she lay up in that old tree, but when the sun had risen higher, she pulled off her flannel and bunched it under her head for a pillow. A light breeze blew and she found herself dozing off, reveling in the peace and quiet.

It was the groaning that woke her.

Jules pulled her legs up onto the boards and sat up, peering over the side of the tree house platform. Three walkers stumbled around the base of the tree, tripping over exposed roots as they circled, arms extended upward, fruitlessly reaching for her. She shouted at them, cussing for all she was worth. How dare they show up and ruin her happy place? She gripped the base of her crowbar in both hands and swung it downward, hooking one of the walkers in the side of the head with a sickening squish. She tugged the crowbar free and grunted as she swung it at the next walker. She missed its head, hooking into its neck instead. The walker lurched to the side, jerking the smooth metal from her grasp.

"Dammit!" She stood and looked around, trying to figure out what to do now that she had stupidly lost her weapon. She took stock of the sycamores—if she could somehow climb through them and get to the sprawling live oak...no, there was nothing for it. The walkers would probably just follow her. She eyed the creatures below her. One hobbled around on a broken leg, the bone protruding from its rotted flesh. The other looked pretty stable, save for the crowbar still latched onto its neck. If she could manage to get the one walker's good leg out from under him and retrieve her crowbar, she might have a shot at-

A streak of something shot from the left, catching the gimpy walker in the eye socket. Jules saw the white and brown feathers at the end of the arrow. She felt a combination of irritation—_of course_ it would be Daryl who came for her—and relief. The walker with her crowbar didn't even have time to turn to face its attacker. An arrow pierced its head at the base of its skull and it fell to the ground. Jules climbed down from the tree and yanked the bar from the walker's neck as it snapped and writhed. She brought the crowbar down and bashed its head a few times until it was still. She stood and faced Daryl, pushing her hair out of her face as she waited for the customary shouting match. He surprised her, however, by nodding toward the first dead walker.

"Not a bad job there." Before Jules had time to smile at his compliment, he continued. "Of course, you wouldn'ta had to bother if you hadn't done something as idiotic as slinkin' off out here by yourself."

"Sweet baby Jesus," she groaned, throwing her hands into the air. "Why do I even bother trying to love you? You're so datdang mean."

"No I ain't. I just say what everybody else is too scared to, 'cause they don't want to step on anybody's toes. And I don't know why you bother tryin' to love me," he added, chewing his lip as he slung his bow over his shoulder. "That definitely ain't smart."

Jules snorted and shook her head. He caught the side of her face, cupping her cheek in his palm, and brought her mouth to his. The kiss was coaxing, persuasive...trying hard to make the apology that neither one would make verbally. She brought her fingertips up to rest on the sides of his neck before pulling back slightly, breaking his kiss.

"We can't keep going 'round like this," she said quietly, pulling his forehead down to lay against hers. "Abnormal dating scene or not, we can't keep being awful to each other and then turn right around and act like nothing's happened."

"Ain't that the way these things normally work?"

"Maybe some, but I don't think I can do that for long."

Daryl sighed and shook his head slightly, dropping his hands. "I don't know what you want from me, Jules. And I don't think you do neither." She didn't say anything so he straightened and lightly nudged her forward with a hand against her back. "Come on. We best get back." Neither spoke on their walk back, but halfway across the field, Jules took hold of Daryl's hand. He usually scoffed at such a girly gesture, but for once his grip was firm and warm around her fingers. Still, she wasn't surprised that he dropped her hand as they approached the house. "You, uh...you comin' home tonight?"

"I think I need to stay at the house for a while. You know, just until things settle down some. Beth's still sick and Hershel's-"

"I get it, it's fine." He offered her a small smile to let her know he meant it. "Family should come first."

"You wanna stay up here?" She knew it was pointless to ask and quashed a sigh when he shook his head.

"Nah. I'm fine at my camp. I'm gonna go check the fence on the east field. Tell Rick if you see him, will ya?"

"Be careful."

He nodded once before turning to walk away.


	5. Chapter 5

"How long are we going to keep him locked up?"

Jules rinsed a glass and dried it on a dishtowel, looking out the kitchen window with Patricia. "It's only been three days."

"He's hurt. He's just a boy. I just don't think it's right, turning him out to those things."

Jules set the glass down with a little more force than necessary. "You weren't in town that day, Patty. We need to find out whatever we can about the other group of people. If they find the farm..." She let the sentence drop and nodded toward the shed. "Rick knows what he's doing."

"We have enough problems here without taking on what _might_ happen with people outside. Rick doesn't see it, but that friend of his is looking for trouble."

"After what happened at the barn, I think Rick's keeping an eye on Shane. Judging by the bruises they were both sporting when they got back from taking Randall out yesterday, things might be coming to a head soon." Her brows furrowed when she saw Rick come out of the shed, dragging Carl by the collar. Daryl pushed away from the wall where he'd been on guard duty. She saw Rick give Carl a little shove and point toward the camp, and the boy sulked away. Daryl and Rick stood outside the shed, talking with their heads close together. "I'm gonna go see what's going on. You okay here?"

Patricia laughed. "Honey, I'd be doing dishes even if the world hadn't ended. Go on, now."

Jules untied her apron and tossed it onto the table. She went out the back door just as Daryl went into the shed. She crossed the yard around to the back of the building and shimmied up a small gum tree before hauling herself through the loft window. She heard the sound of fists on flesh and felt a little sick. Peering through a stack of old junk into the lower level of the shed, she saw Daryl holding onto Randall's collar and hitting him in the face. He tossed the boy back to the floor.

Randall pleaded with Daryl, insisting that he wasn't like the men he had been running with. Daryl pulled his knife and ripped the bandage from Randall's leg. Jules couldn't see exactly what he was doing, but based on the gruffness of his voice, it wasn't anything good. Randall didn't seem to be giving Daryl the answers he wanted.

"Your boys shot at my boys, at my woman, and tried to take this farm. You just went along for the ride? You trying to tell me you're innocent?"

Jules listened to the boy describe the group of men and women who took him in. Randall described a group attacking and raping a couple of girls-"Real young, real cute," he added, as if that would somehow impress Daryl-while they made their father watch. Jules knew what he was saying was bullshit. Even if he wasn't a rapist, he wasn't as outraged at the other group's behavior as he would have them all think.

He turned his face upward, yelling as Daryl pummeled him a bit more. His swollen eye caught sight of Jules and he called out to her. "Please! Help me! Don't let him kill me, please!"

Daryl followed his line of sight and spotted Jules. His eyes narrowed and she could see the muscle in his jaw clench, even from her spot in the loft. Daryl kicked Randall with the back of his boot before stepping up onto a wooden crate, shoving the junk away from Jules's hiding spot and yanking her into his arms. He sighed as he hauled her from the loft and gave her a shove toward the door. "The hell you doin'?" She hesitated and he wrapped his arm around her back and led her quickly from the shed. He slammed the door and tossed the keys to Shane, who was pacing nearby. "I'll be back in a minute."

"What's she doing in there?"

"I'll be back in a minute," Daryl repeated more forcefully. He led Jules away from the shed. When they were out of earshot, he took a deep breath, making an effort to control his frustration. "What the hell are you thinking, girl?"

"I just wanted to know what was going on."

"And you couldn't just ask somebody?"

"Like I'd get any straight answers if I _did_? Dammit, this is my family's farm, Daryl, but all this business with this kid...Rick isn't including any of us in the decisions."

"He says your uncle gave him leave to sort this thing out, and that's what he's doin'."

"Oh? 'Cause I don't see Rick beating the shit outta that guy for information."

Daryl kicked the ground with the toe of his boot and squinted at her. "Rick ain't like that."

Jules wanted to shake him. "Neither are you!"

"The hell I ain't," he said, straightening. He pointed toward the shed and leaned toward her. "You think this is the first guy I ever beat up for information? You don't know me! Hell, I rolled guys younger'n him for anything they were carryin'! I gave a bartender in Macon a concussion while Merle was curb-stomping a fella outside. Violence is in my blood, sweetheart. Ain't no two ways about it. It's what I am."

"Oh, Daryl," Jules said, shaking her head. She laid one hand on his arm and cupped his face with the other. "Maybe once upon a time, but that's not what you are anymore."

Instead of the belligerent retort and posturing she'd expected, Daryl just shook his head and turned away from her, walking out into the field. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Jules followed him and hooked a finger in his belt loop, drawing him to a stop.

"There ain't nobody else to do it," Daryl said before she spoke. "It _is_ my choice. If you don't like the one I made, tough. You heard what that boy said. If that gang rolls up on this farm, we're all dead, and you, and Maggie, and the other girls...ya'll'd all be..." He took a deep breath, not wanting to think about it. "So I gotta go back in there and find out how many of these sumbitches there are so we can decide what we're going to do about it. If you got a problem with that, too bad." He lifted his face as rain began to fall.

"You told me this morning that you don't know what I want from you, and that I didn't either. You want to know what I want from you, Daryl? _You_. That's it. I don't care if it is mad you, or bad you, or sad you. I want...I want all of them. You're a mess, honey, but you're my mess and for whatever crazy reason, I love you."

His lips quirked and he gave a quiet, rusty laugh. "You romantic as hell, you know that?"

Jules laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a firm kiss. His arms encircled her, holding her tight against him as he kissed her back. The rain picked up, soaking their clothes. After a long moment, Daryl pulled back.

"I gotta get back to the shed."

Jules reached up to give him one more quick kiss on the lips before slapping his ass. "Well go on then. I'll be in the house, wet and naked, taking a shower."

"You're so damn mean," he said over his shoulder, giving her a rare full smile.


	6. Chapter 6

"Are we really standing around talking about killing somebody?"

The sun was setting and everyone was gathered in the den of the farmhouse discussing Randall's sentencing. The way it looked, the death penalty had the most votes. Dale was beside himself. The group was split—some, headed by Shane, were for it outright, while others, like Maggie, hoped to keep Randall prisoner until something else could be decided. Rick was trying to be diplomatic about the whole thing. Daryl hovered in the background, only catching Jules's eye every now and then. She slipped behind Lori and went to his side, silently and subtly twining her fingers with his. Dale saw her move and zeroed in on her.

"What about you? Julia, you can't honestly be okay with this?"

"It's not up to me," she said. "Do I think he poses a threat to this group? Absolutely. If he hadn't skewered himself on that fence, he and his buddies would have taken off without a look back, just marauding wherever they went. If they'd killed Glenn that night, or Rick, or Hershel, they wouldn't have cared, and if they'd have gotten to me, it've been worse. That much we know straight from the boy's mouth. Now, I ain't saying we kill him, but I definitely think the sooner we get him off this farm, the better."

Everyone started talking at once before Carol interrupted, insisting on being left out of the decision. Dale pointed at her. "Not speaking out or killing him yourself, there's no difference. Isn't anyone going to stand with me on this?"

Jules chewed the inside of her cheek. She looked up at Daryl and squeezed his hand before addressing the group. "There has to be some way to get him out and away from here without killing him." She looked at Rick, then at Shane. "Maybe the next trip won't be so full of conflict?" She nodded at Dale. "I say we give it another couple of days and try to work something out."

"Thank you."

"He's right, we should try something else," Andrea said.

"Anybody else?" When no one else spoke up, Rick faced Dale. With a few final words of moral condemnation, Dale swept from the room. He stopped next to Daryl and squeezed his shoulder.

"This group_ is_ broken."

"What was that about?" Jules asked. Daryl just shook his head.

"Daryl?" Rick called. "You, me, and Shane, we'll deal with it, alright?"

"When you wanna do it?" he asked, his voice heavy.

"Now's as gooda time as any," Shane said.

"Just like that? Man, at least Rick and Daryl are showing a little bit of trepidation about killing this guy." Jules raked a disgusted glance over Shane, making no bones about the fact that she despised him. "I hope you do a better job of this one than you did last time you led an execution, Shane."

"That's enough," Daryl said quietly. He nodded to Rick before laying a hand on her shoulder. "Stay in the house, a'ight?"

She nodded and watched him leave. Maggie looped her arm through Jules's as the door shut. "He's doing what needs to be done, for the good of the group."

"Yeah, but what about _his_ good?"

* * *

"Hey up there."

"Hey down there," Jules said, peering over the edge of the roof at Daryl. She sat on the ledge as she'd done since she was seven, letting her feet dangle and leaning back to appreciate the stars. "Is it done?"

Daryl shook his head. "Keeping him in the shed for now. Rick's telling the others. His kid followed us, wanted to see. Ain't right, a kid seeing that sorta thing, even in this world. So we're waiting." He tucked a hand into his pocket and shuffled, swinging his lantern nervously. "You wanna come down?"

"You wanna come up?" She smiled and patted the rooftop next to her. "Just step on the banister, then the limb there, then swing yourself up."

"I ain't no squirrel. Why don't you come on-"

A blood-curdling scream split the night and Jules bolted upright. "What is it?"

"I don't know. Get inside the house and stay there, Julia." He took off toward the sound, his lantern blinking in the darkness. Jules leapt off the roof, snagging the limb and swinging to the ground before following him. More screams, more cries filled the air. Other voices joined in, calling for Dale.

"Oh my God!"

A walker lay on top of Dale. Jules couldn't see if he'd been bitten yet. She didn't have a weapon. In her panic, she'd left without one. She'd grown complacent, forgetting the threat that lurked in the darkness for the one that lurked in the light. Daryl tackled the walker off Dale, making her heart stop as he grappled with it. He slid his knife through its head and tossed the body aside, returning to Dale just as she reached him. The walker had ripped the old man open, his stomach was now a gaping hole.

"Help! Hey, over here!" Daryl stood, waving to the others.

Jules knelt beside Dale, stroking his forehead. "It's okay. You're gonna be okay." She attempted to smile reassuringly, but a sob bubbled out before she could stop it. "You're gonna be okay." Rick and the others appeared, and everyone clamoured around. "Get Uncle Hershel." Rick called for Hershel and a moment later her uncle appeared. He took a look at Dale and met her eyes. Jules stood and walked a few feet away, tuning out the background noise of tears and pleas and shouts of anger. She covered her face with her hands and cried without making one single sound.

"He's suffering,"Andrea said. Jules wiped her eyes and looked back at the group in time to see Rick draw his pistol. "Do something!"

"Come on," Shane said quietly.

"Putting it on someone else again, huh, Shane?" Jules whispered as she passed. He heard her, she could tell by the way he tensed. She knelt on the other side of Dale and took his hand. She reached across with her other hand and laid it on Andrea's shoulder. Rick pointed the gun at Dale's head and Andrea turned away, curling in on herself and crying. Jules looked up at Rick, waiting for the killshot while Dale's blood-slicked fingers convulsed around her own.

After a drawn out moment, Daryl approached the former sheriff and eased the gun from his grasp. He didn't look at Jules, but he felt her eyes on him as he took a knee next to Dale's head. He peripherally caught sight of the moonlight reflecting on the fat tears that started rolling down Jules's cheeks. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he held the end of the .357 over Dale's forehead and tried to ignore the pain-filled, frightened eyes darting wildly beneath unruly eyebrows.

"Sorry, brother."

The gunshot exploded amidst the soft sobs of the women and the quiet misery of the men.

* * *

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**__ I know what you might be thinking-"Um, Lorien? There's no sex in this story." I know, right? I just couldn't find a good sexin' spot. lol Still, stay tuned, dear readers. If it's the secks you want, the secks you shall have. I have a scene I took out of this that I'm gonna post by itself. I just thought it would be better if this story wasn't like, angst - angst - angst - SEX OUTTA NOWHERE - angst - angst._

_Thanks for reading anyway! Until next time, kisses and cake to all! _


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